A Few More Days
by Soapbox Flyboy
Summary: Tom Hansen lives a new life; and he understands the danger of assigning significance to events that are simply the regular occurrences of life. But his certainty is shaken when his life is thrown into disarray, and again changed by nothing more than coincidence.


I would very much like this story to end well, but you should know it might not have a happy ending.

Tom stepped out into the bright sunlight, blinking several times until his vision adjusted. He walked down the sidewalk, stepping over each line in the sidewalk, thinking about the sunlight. The sun did not grow dimmer to suit people; peoples' eyes adjusted to suit the sun. It seemed like a simple and obvious concept, but he still felt odd about billions of people blinking to change for the sun, when the singular sun never changed. Even at night, the sun was not changing, the Earth was turning.

He shook his head, it was just a thought. Besides, Autumn would be home already. He walked into the local flower shop, a small bell ringing as he opened the door. "Hey, Mrs. Bixler," He said, waving to the older woman who owned the shop and giving her a good-natured grin.

"Tom Hansen!" She smiled, giving him a hug. "You don't stop by nearly enough these days!" She chided him with mock anger, the smile still on her face

"Sorry!" Tom said sheepishly, they both knew Tom constantly went by the shop to get Autumn fresh flowers. He loved the way she smiled each time he walked in, a new bouquet to be put in a vase and set on the window sill of their apartment. She loved him and he loved her, the flowers a constant sign that their love was as new as the day they first met, applying for the same job.

"Tom?" Mrs. Bixler asked, looking a bit concerned.

"Er…sorry…again," Tom shook his head; He had not meant to space out like that. "Ah, here," he said, pointing to a pot with two white orchids that had streaks of red on the petals. "Think Autumn will like these?" He asked her.

Mrs. Bixler shook her head, "Tom. We both know that Autumn would be happy if you gave her a pair of socks."

"A pair of…what? Why?" Tom said, a bit bewildered.

"She'd be happy because they'd be from _you_." She said, pointedly, scanning the barcode on the flower pot while Tom fished his wallet out of his pocket.

"Thanks!" Tom said, paying for the flowers and heading out of the shop.

"Tell Autumn I say hi!" Mrs. Bixler called out to him before the door closed.

Tom started heading towards his apartment, deciding to take a small detour at the last minute. He had time, besides, the flowers were not that heavy. Angelus Plaza. He set the flowers down on the bench he always picked out as he sat down next to them. Taking a deep breath, he took in the scenery. It was all familiar by that point, but it never bored him. He did occasionally miss Summer. She was…unique. Quirky, intriguing, he almost missed being in her world. But he had let go of her, too.

And Autumn had no doubts in her love. She was more than happy to call herself his girlfriend, to be _his_. And he was happy to be hers. He got up, picking up the flowers, waving one last goodbye to a Summer that was not even there.

Opening the door to the apartment, he stepped in the cold air conditioning a welcome relief to the hot Los Angeles climate. He locked the door behind him, and when he turned back to head inside, he was met by the sweet, cinnamon taste of Autumn's lips. "Well…hey," Tom said, unable to suppress the grin that was quickly spreading across his face.

"I missed you, baby," Autumn said as he leaned forward to kiss her, again.

"…taste like cinnamon," Tom mumbled, as he pulled back for a moment.

She moved to whisper in his ear, "I made cookies."

"My favorite?" He asked, with a small laugh. She knew cinnamon sugar cookies were his favorite.

"Your favorite," She confirmed, her own laugh mixing with his.

"You're perfect, you know that?" He continued, pushing his smile into her neck.

"Only as perfect as you," She giggled, relishing his touch.

Tom moved back, their faces only a few inches apart. "Oh, and of course, these are for you," He said, pulling out the orchids from the flower shop. "And we should probably water them soon becau-" And then she cut him off again with a kiss, and he set the flowers down as she pulled him back to their room.

"Parsley."

Tom paused chopping the eggplant to hand her a clove of parsley. Autumn had found a recipe for eggplant parmesan that she was, apparently, just _dying _to try. And they had a bit of a habit of making dinner together. While she made the tomato sauce, he was relegated to preparing the eggplant, and he chopped the fruit into thick, round slices. It was a pretty menial task, but it made it easier for him to listen to her talk about her day.

Neither of them had gotten the job from the interview they met at. But, they both worked at separate architectural firms, and they both enjoyed their work. Occasionally comparing ideas or drawing on the chalkboard in the apartment, talking about how their day went, Tom actually felt…happy. He knew he had figured it out. This was not the blind, rose-tinted infatuation: the kind he had with Summer. This was genuine. This was real. This was-

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of a phone. They did not have a landline in the apartment, so it had to be one of their cell phones. "Not mine," Autumn shrugged, going back to stirring the sauce. Tom nodded and went to get his own phone, pausing after he picked it up to see who was calling.

_Summer Finn._

Tom closed his eyes for a moment. Why would she be calling? No matter what, it would not be good. He looked back over towards the kitchen, back at Autumn. He had moved on…right? He ignored the call and put his phone in his pocket. Right. Another beep…Tom grimaced. He knew, no matter what, he would wind up listening to the message she had left. But it was up to him how long he would avoid it.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Autumn called over to him from the kitchen.

"Uh…yeah, sorry," Tom walked back over to the kitchen, where Autumn gave him a concerned look. "Really, I'm fine," He reassured her with a smile.

They finished the eggplant parmesan, but even once they had gone to bed, Tom still could not relax. _She doesn't have a real excuse to call_, he reasoned, _so that means she's doing it to either prove to herself that she still has a hold on you, or she wants to still be friends with you. Either way, you're not interested. So there's no point in even listening to what she has to say. _He resolutely shut his eyes. He refused to lose any more sleep over it.

And yet, he wound up staring at his reflection across the bathroom sink. _I'm either an idiot, or…no, I'm pretty sure I'm an idiot. _And with that thought, he opened the message she had left.

'Hey, Tom, it's Summer! Guess you're busy right now, but I'm going to be in LA for the next week. We should catch up! Let me know if you'd like to!' _Click. _It seemed…short. He had not felt like he was expecting to hear more from her, but apparently he was.

He shook his head, this was a mistake. Too late to call her, he left her a text message:

_Good to hear from you, Summer! And I'd be happy to meet up some time to catch up. Just let me know when you're open!_

Confident. But he wasn't.


End file.
